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Helen Mar 2014
one day, I'll sit
and explain
each and every line
I'll weave a tale
of every heretical thought
that crossed my mind
I'll describe the emotions
that clawed their way
through my chest
Alien like
and came to rest
upon a page
sage like
in its green(ness)
Exhalting in its freeness

Yes, one day I will explain
and until that day
read what you can
take what interpretation
that gets you though
the gelatinous mass
that is Life
One day, I'll explain
until then
let's pretend
we got through this
together.....
Helen Feb 2014
I used to have a book, books,
that I scribbled in furiously
at work, at traffic lights
in the morning and at night
after I went to bed, I'd get up again
and bled upon a page
I'd be halfway through a shower
and I'd rush through top and toe
just to drip upon the page
so the feelings would not go away

now

I write mine freehand, in the dark
after my world has gone to sleep
I take another drink
and become part of all of me
I used to think carefully
about each syllable,
each carefully constructed line
but there is no time, no time left
for me to care what falls from my brain

I read everyday, every word said
I collect emotions of others wounds
and store them as prizes in my head
I love everyone you do, or, did
and I hate them for how they treated you
or, I did, until you forgave them
or, killed them in memory or,
flogged yourself stupid for their mistakes
I get it, you write what I've lived

I draw on memories that aren't mine
Emotions I've never allowed to cut deep
Promises that were left unspoken
and crossroads where we would never meet

Hence the darkness needed to write
because I'm afraid of the shadows
that seem to hide in the light
In the dark I can pretend to be alone
Just my drink, and my dog
which occasionally likes to sit on me
and I can pretend I mean something
to just anyone, kissing emotional lips
with a passion of memories
I don't seem to own
Feb 2014 · 1.2k
the Cat, the Rat and the Bat
Helen Feb 2014
Cassie* the Cat and Riley the Rat
knew their love could never be
Cassie knew that he was just a plaything
Riley admired how she could climb a tree

Cassie thought he was too cute
and Riley truly loved that mangy cat
They understood the ups and downs
defying the intermingled species trap

One night while Cassie was prowling the fence
with Riley snuggled atop of her soft fur
Billy the Bat ranged overhead
following them silently, undeterred

Watching Cassie and Riley share their love
being born of the night, Billy wanted that
They’d defied the intermingled species trap
He wanted that for himself, but, who’d love a bat?

Angered by his thoughts that bought about self pity
he sought out the Animal Gods
he told them about Cassie and Riley
Horrified, they sent out the Dogs

Damon Dog was their most elite destroyer
His mission was to ensure that Cassie Cat
would be integrated back into her own species
and he was to just dispose of the rat

Damon silently stalked Cassie and Riley
as they lay tucked together, Damon did pounce
as Riley leapt in front of his mangy cat, to protect
Damon, at that moment, his mission he did renounce

Damon had witnessed their love, and sighing he said
‘It is not possible for you to remain together
Tabby cat, you must return to your own kind and
Rat, you can no longer be with her, EVER!’


Cassie knew from the start their love was doomed
Riley knew without Cassie he’d never be complete
Cassie sighed and returned to her humans
Riley wept as he went back to his garbage heap

Epilogue:

Billy the bat continues to haunt the night
All morose and bordering on Goth
He interfered in the intermingled species trap
and is now married to a Sloth
Feb 2014 · 1.3k
do me a favour?
Helen Feb 2014
stand up at the podium
and tell everyone
I was mad

there was not a single cell
in her body that was sane


*Each molecule was rabid
Each word out of the mouth
breathed in another's pain,
another's thoughts, another's foot
another's absolute, down to Earth
truth

She gladly swallowed razor blades
and never once, coughed up blood
She sought to hold all pain
beneath a heart that would never gain
truth

She was insane

Truth
Helen Feb 2014
I only lost lobe,
My hearing is just perfect
standing to my left
Feb 2014 · 657
Behind the Mask
Helen Feb 2014
there is a reason for pretending
behind a fake name
a fake smile
It's all the same

Because pretending
you're not the same
as the life you lead
or the blood you bleed
even the truths you freed

Because all others see

is what you don't want them to

what they don't know about you

what they envision in their own mind

as you hide behind

The Mask

crafted by a scarred hand
hiding wrinkles on a face
that laughed a lot
less frowns that were attributed
to those happy lines
There was a time
one time
that the mask slipped
and colours dipped
and slowed
Life ebbed and flowed
and each i was dotted
and each t was crossed
and we connected
like cursive script
but we forget
That the mask kept everything
disconnected

I took off the mask

*and wrecked it
Feb 2014 · 486
Game, Over
Helen Feb 2014
it flashes incessantly
in front of angry eyes
pleading to feed more
quarters into a mawing
jaw of an empty slot
mores lives to waste
with perfect haste
begging for another chance
but empty pockets insist
you no longer exist
this just feels... unfinished *shrug* Perhaps not...
Helen Feb 2014
It's just not like that!

There is no script, no director screaming
Cut!
Now let's do it again
this time, with meaning?


There is no early warning of subterfuge
or lightly dropped, not so hidden clues
No instantly in 'five minutes' guessed plots
because all expectancy needs to fit
inside a predetermined time slot

There is no Boy meets Girl
Girl hates Boy
Boy doesn't understand why?
Boy realises on page 106
why Girl hates him
and spends 87 pages
delving within his own psyche
as he rides his motorbike
on the edge of Life

he will crash, most like

Ever wonder why sequels are never
"as good as the original"
Because questions were answered at the end
and everything that went unanswered
never begged the question

Of course, you say, it will never be
just like a book or a movie
or even those ******
'Made for Television' series
because each and every one
is just a captured moment in time

Depicting just one heartbeat
out of so many millions
that skittered out of line
Feb 2014 · 469
Damned Apple Tree
Helen Feb 2014
A rolling mist, so fine and pure
gliding toward a love so sure
but doesn’t completely obscure
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, to me, did sing

A mist to erase all the haste
and never see the imperfect waste
to be forever embraced, beneath
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, to me, joy did bring

The mist turning into a soft shroud
that gently envelops like a cloud
the place I never felt more proud, under
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, to me, gave me a ring

As I look up to all that I should admire
and the mist slowly chokes all that I desire
Haunted by lust, my death I will aspire, shaded by
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, to me, took away the sting

Now the dark clouds will gather
and nothing else will cease to matter
all I dreamed will shatter as I mourn, under
the Apple Tree
Where my lover, for me, did swing

**** you and **** me
Apple Tree!
For taking away the one thing
to which I needed to cling

**** you and **** me
Apple Tree!
As I sit under your protective branch
and mourn my lost romance

**** you and **** me
Apple Tree!
While you continue on being
My lover, to me, I continue seeing
Helen Feb 2014
I'm sorry

I'm not a very good communicationist

I'm not even a a good writer of rhyme

I seem to exist

most of the time

in my own mind

It's an ugly place

But thank you for your messages

Thank you for the poems

I'm sorry

I can't express myself better

but your words will always be

Home

(to me)

I'm sorry

I'm just a falling down shack

No

I won't take anything back

Sorry
Feb 2014 · 336
just don't f**king care!
Helen Feb 2014
don't even know why I wanted
to shape this as a poem
perhaps because Poetry is
the only Love
that ever loved me back
it's all I've ever known
despair lays heavily on a heart
that beat for so many others
now it just beats for one
and even then I wish I could
just stop it, shock it into dying
it beats for no reason, each season
it tick tocks upon the rocks
of where it has been bashed
by another's unsupported anger
unjustifiably angry with no reason
but I don't ******* care anymore!
Used, abused and given little hope
that I made a difference in breathing
just a little same oxygen that you do
it's irrelevant that the eyes are unseeing
the heart is still beating
just don't ******* care!

Do you?
Feb 2014 · 1.6k
chances are...
Helen Feb 2014
Your chances are, your chances are...

Chances are the forecast -
is mistaken.

Rain is inevitable.
Down and bound
to arrive, sourced from
a cloudless sky

Chances are the forecast -
is mistaken.

Death is inevitable.
Down and bound
to arrive.
After one last
cloudless breath
taken, no more.
chances are... I forecast that I would not be here if not for you, breathing in my ear, holding the umbrella over my bowed head as you get wet from a cloudless sky... what a guy ;)
'chances are' is a poem written by Nat Lipstadt... if you don't know him yet, get to know him better here: http://hellopoetry.com/nat-lipstadt/  send him just a little part of you, your scraps, your off cuts and he can turn it into gourmet stew, and you'll think you are eating at a 5 star restaurant...  but most of all, he took a part of me that is my heart, I'm grateful he's looking after it...
Feb 2014 · 867
Body Talk
Helen Feb 2014
My mind stopped talking to me
about 6 weeks ago
So out of sheer loneliness
(and a little curiosity)
I started talking to my big toe

“Hey me old mate, how ya been?”

“Don’t old mate me
I haven’t seen you since
I don’t know when.
Oh, that’s right!
it was about the time
your big fat gut moved in!”


“Sorry I haven’t been around…”

“You’ve been ‘round alright
it’s actually a shape you wear well
but what do I know?
I’m kept in the dark most of the time
by the way, your shoes really smell!”


“But…”

“Oh No you didn’t
just bring **** into it
I know for a fact
they are just as mad at you,
and feeling the rejection
So is calf and knee and
elbow and poor little Pinkie toe too!
You no longer bother to have me rubbed
The only attention I get
is when you have me stubbed”


That was about when I stopped
talking to my big toe
It when on and on and on
Whinge, *****, whine!
Now I’m just lonely again
sigh
I really miss my mind
Helen Feb 2014
Printed a couple of poems
onto crisp white pages
My daughter coloured pictures
around words that took ages
Hole punched the left hand side
with Pink wool it is tied

Written and illustrated
by Helen and Chelsea

It's my greatest achievement to date
(beside my daughter, you see)
note, tongue in cheek :) I actually do have 1 book of Poetry, it even has its own ISBN except, there is only one copy in existence, it sits on my husbands bedside table and he guards it zealously :)
Helen Feb 2014
To all the ungrateful ******
that felt me up on the back seat
in some unknown parking lot
because you wouldn't spring
for a real date
Perhaps your waiting for me
to bled my angst onto this page
Pffft
Don't wait!
If you've decimated me
into tiny parts
where slot A no longer fits
for your tiny part B
you don't deserve to be carried,
vaunted upon a poetic chaise
it's a pathetic waste
of my Joie de vivre
I can't read another word
of You were my one and only
until you left me
so I'm just going to keep
writing about
how good I was for him
and how he doesn't deserve me

Because He doesn't care!
He's down and *****
on the back seat
in another unknown parking lot
with another faceless name
for him, it's freaking hot
So stop spilling your life's blood
upon an empty page
Pick up, move on
Discover life after ungrateful ******
Write something that will live longer
than just your age
Helen Feb 2014
I am worthy, of the air I breathe, of living in the sun
I am worthless, an oxygen thief, my life should not have begun

I stand proud, I stand tall, I deserve a joyful life
I will bow to all that’s worthless; I’ll revel in the strife

I have strength of character; I can rise above all of that
I am weak, I have no worth, I have the morals of an alley cat

I will find joy in a life where unhappiness tries to remain
I will **** the joy as I call forth the darkness to stake its claim

I can not allow my other half to drag me unconscious to my demise
I can make sure you don’t feel a thing; you must die so I can arise

I will continue to say three words that will make you go away
I will continue to be deaf to you in order for me to stay

I Love Me. I Love Me. I Love Me. I Love Me
NO NO NO, STOP…… your killing me!

Go On… Say it
NO
SAY IT
noooo...

I Love Me
I Love Me

I thought so!
Helen Feb 2014
Silver linings are just a cover up
Crocodile tears are all you had
Red as the blood I tried to spill
Every time things got too bad
Why did you carve up my heart?

You never thought I would fight back
Outside you're all sunshine and light
Underneath your braggart heart is black
Helen Feb 2014
Playing strip poker
for money
Being naked and busted
is just NOT funny

A moonlight stroll
when your ready for bed
For those that don't wear pj's
Enough said

Playing Musical Chairs
using only stools
is for people with equilibrium
but funny as Hell for drunken fools

DIY Home Salon
Hair Coloring
Purple with Orange Highlights
clash with pretty much everything

Frying a meal
when your ready to retire
Again, sans pj's
your literally playing with fire

Body Waxing
ANYWHERE
especially
... down there ;-)
Feb 2014 · 1.1k
shiver
Helen Feb 2014
I only closed my eyes for a second

The death forest surrounds me.
Ghostly white trees mocking me in their silence
Woven bleached bones of all the fallen
bound together, glowing under a pale full moon
Empty eye sockets peering at me
as I weave in and out of their grasp
Inside the mist, stumbling without guidance

There’s an old man, sitting in one of the trees
laughing at the insanity but oddly distressed,
smiling at me. Cackling with glee but weeping
as he reaches out to touch my hair and sweep it
behind one ear. It’s comforting in it’s creepiness

He’s whispering to me in a smoke scratched voice
Comfort is as comfort does
Redemption is not at the foot of a hill
Catch a tiger by the tail
and it’s your blood that will spill

All I can hear is booming laughter
that shake the leaves of the bone dead trees
and as I watch them fall to the ground and turn to ash
I realize the old man never even opened his mouth

Then it’s all gone*

I’m back to sitting in front of a stone cold hearth
ripping pages from the book of my mind
and watching my Memories feed the fire
as I poke it with a red hot piece of steel
It was all the fodder for the fire I could find
Sipping from the crystal goblet filled to the brim
with Lies mixed with Deceit with a slice of lemon
and a dash of Arsenic just for a kick
The fire casts prisms of light bouncing from the crystal
onto bare walls to show a slow waltz of torture
that bleeds down the bricks in sinking desperation
A rainbow of colors from a ***** oil slick
Feb 2014 · 535
don't turn off the light
Helen Feb 2014
Bearing scars
from long ago dreams
that died
a torturous death
Whispering words
in a harsh light
with lungs
that can’t draw breath
Searing images
Looping
like a horror movie
that replay in the mind
in the darkness
Flickering
Closing eyes can’t
make me blind
I can see
in the dark
but I really hate
the night
Battle scars
are what I wear
You don’t have to
think its right
It’s uncomfortable
For you, I know, but
I really hate the dark
So please…
Don't turn off the light
Helen Feb 2014
another fork in the road
left or right?
last time I hung a left
I fell down laughing
at the nothingness
that kept me awake
at night...

I could go right
and forge new horizons
that don't feel hollow
and just pretend to swallow
tepidness with one decision
but I'm undecided
at this fork in the road
maybe if I shed some blood
I could read my destination
dripping from my open veins
with just a simple incision

I struggle with the blah blah blah
of "the road less traveled" and
"the road to hell is paved with
the best intentions"
I made choices to take the path
that was less likely to interact
with any who were likely
to make a pact with another
for intervention

I'm on my own

I zigged
when I should have
zagged
and pretended that
it was possible to ****
the importance out of the Deity
that set me upon this path

Alas

I have been dropped
upon this road to redemption
with no moral compass
no false assumptions
and no money to pay for gas

Dec 3, 2011
Feb 2014 · 774
only you cried
Helen Feb 2014
On the steps of the train station
where a wrapped bundle wept
with the indignity of being female
was all that she had left
As millions passed her by
on feet that carried them
to their own redemption
They glanced at the small bundle
and questioned
What price do I pay
With my intervention?


Millions of mothers held hands
with their sons
and asked for forgiveness
hiding their bounty
from the regimes eyes
A son, or a daughter
One is life
the other means slaughter
Those that birthed a means
to the end
hid their complacency
behind their sigh

As that little girl starved
and wailed her angst
to ears that didn’t listen
she spread her humanity
to all the passing feet
that saw, but ignored
the tears on her cheek
that glistened

Worldwide, we notice
whole populations
that give their children
to the dark
And we watch, and wonder
as their tiny life spark
withers
she died

There was much outrage
*but only you cried
at the risk of being misinterpreted (I NEVER explain my poetry) this was written many years ago, when several people listened to a story about about a baby girl left on the steps of a train station in China at the height of their 'one child policy' as they all expressed their outrage I only witnessed one person who actually shed a tear at such diabolical cruelty....
Helen Feb 2014
I stumbled upon a most beautiful poem
It made me cry, and smile and pretend
I don't ever want to have such loss known
I wept all the way, to the very end

then I read it again and again

We have all felt it, tasted its poison
tried to stay tight lipped without drinking
It's bittersweet kiss tends to destroy us
pores contract as it leeches through thinking

I seek surcease as I demand
another shot of being ******


So to the note, left at the end

Let the candy of such sublime memories
melt upon a tongue that never denies
For none of us will ever simply, be free
but we can sweeten our blood
with remembrance to good times

*good times
*like so much of life, it is bittersweet! yet that word is a reminder that it is not our losses, but what we make of our losses, that defines us... and makes our life sweet!* ~ S.E.Reimer
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/turning-pages-6/
Feb 2014 · 6.8k
let me introduce myself
Helen Feb 2014
escapism*

the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.

Hello

I'm just a un pretty face
in an ugly place
I can pretend
with the best of them

I love to paint pictures
that make no sense
except
inside my head.
on canvas?
they are just literally
uncoordinated twitchiness
a need to put colour
back into a world
of Black and White

I like to write stories
the antagonist being
just someone
who lost,
the heroine
fleeing
from a simple world
so complicated
it's hard to cast
two beings that are so
ill fated


and so the story goes

That poetry saved me
I can't tell it
for truth
It makes a difference
I suppose

But honestly?

I wake at the crack of dawn
I yell at the dog for barking
I take a minute for myself
Then wake the kids
it's starting
Getting ready for  another day
is like petting a lion
begging food as a stray
I collect the mail
sort the bills
pretend that money
is an option, not a price
then sell myself to another
for a day
so nice
Feed, clean, wash
make sure no one is missed
How was your day dear?
Well, it's like this
as they wander away
to their own adventures
and I'm left
to my own devices
eventually
To paint a picture
Write a book
Or expel my life's pleasures
into poetry
and all I really hear is
What do you mean, is that about me?

Umm no, it's about me...

And tomorrow
I'll wake up
to do it all again

Hello

I'm Helen
and I'm so glad to meet each and every one of you here :)
Feb 2014 · 408
before the battle
Helen Feb 2014
I prayed

I prayed

Not to my God
I have none
but to yours
I thanked a Lord
I have no belief in
for creating
such a fine angel
I thanked someone
anyone
That I could hold you
before I needed
to fight
for you
in a never ending
lifetime of
Wars

Kiss me

Kiss me

Before I leave
make me believe
that before the battle
I fight for someone
anyone
who
if I fall
will take my lifeless soul
into their own heart
and never forget me
to forever
grieve

Before the battle
as I venture out
into the field
to bathe the earth red
with thy enemies blood
Whisper to me

whisper

How you regret that I leave
and you will be waiting
an eternity
for me to return
to wash away
my sins
with your heavenly body
and shower me clean
with your pure love

Promise me

I fight

for all the

right

Reasons

Dec 2, 2010
Helen Feb 2014
we sat on the grass
for a little while
and had a chat
Loneliness
was a catalyst
Just sitting under trees
drinking heavily
from hope
that someone out there
wanted someone else
for company
share sympathy
some tea,
or coffee
offering a carafe
of nectar from the Gods
bagged in brown paper
sharing sips of
morality
taking gulps of
mortality
Pretending a bed of moss
are feathers
and beneath our head
lay the pleasure
of long forgotten comfort
that we gave to ourselves
at the most
We share our simple bed
with an unlikely ghost
And upon a day
when the Sun
decided to gild skin
with a kiss
of luminescence
we guessed
that just sitting here was no fun
so under
The Sun
you promised to come back
to go play on the swings
to push me higher
than the Earth
you promised me wings
and I got excited
well how 'bout that
I had a promise
from someone
who I knew
(not at all)
no takesy back...
but Sunday at the park
when all the families
went home
I sat still
on a swing
oxymoronically
alone
Jan 2014 · 808
a coin in a rusty tin
Helen Jan 2014
Standing at the crossroads
of a busy city byway
Is a man who yells at anyone
even if they avoid his eye
'cause he's got something to say
Jesus is here to stay!
He lives in your heart
and rides the subway
He is coming back for you
... Someday! but Hallelujah!

there is just a distant echo
and remnants of his passion
as you step into the intersection
upon a You May Walk sign
all that's left behind
is the ringing in your ears
and an adrenaline rush
as you sped up, before
and after the crossroad
of Fire and Eternal Damnation
not being a believer

At the mouth of the Alley
that guards a revolving Hells door
sits a single example
of humanity unwashed
that silently gazes upon a new day
He's also got something to say
but is rendered mute by condemnation
a single black mark
against a nation, his nation
The one he fought for, and died for
his soul never made it back
His body, empty of compassion
turned to the streets
looking for something, anything
he will never get back

Yes, he's got something to say
even if he will never
spill his horror
That is where, today, went
what sat alone in my pocket
There went my last dollar
Helen Jan 2014
I cannot, in all seriousness
grant you Absolution
for you created the problem
Ergo, you must find the solution

I cannot, in all consciousness
grant you Pardon
for you trespassed, unlightly
Therefore, you reap the garden

If you stand proud
amongst weeds that cling
and nettles
that sting
and flowers that died
before they saw sunlight
Struggling through the cracks
so they just might
pretty up an overcast day
and say...

I think this garden
should have died yesterday


Then, I may, possibly
grant you Forgiveness
because you fell blind
to beauty, held an abhorrence
for Colour, and a scheme
that makes no sense to you,
but to me, the riotous blending
of Earth, to Sun,
to the Moon and the Stars
are simplicity

As could be

You

and

Me

I can't gift you
with any emotion
that you don't feel
I'm not Magical
I hold no appeal
but in my Garden
of never ending cycles
of Birth, of Death
I offer hope born
of longing to be free
from barren emptiness
I give you a place
to sit
a place
for your soul
to rest
to find
release
I offer you
Peace
Jan 2014 · 1.1k
just another day
Helen Jan 2014
it started with the alarm
which I forgot to turn off
because everyday
it's how it usually starts
but not today
I sacrificed some hard earned
hours, for a day, just for me
but forgot the alarm
sigh
So I arise
Turned on my phone
read some poetry
appreciated

every.

single.

response.

to me and my ramblings

Facebooked each piece
of my heart that poked me
while being grateful
they tickle with a finger
and not attack me
at my backbone
with  a serrated knife

thats not nice

Cooked an early dinner
for my family
Because usually dinner time
clashes unusually with drinking time

and quite frankly
today, I just want them to eat heartily
and leave me be...

but one tiptoed through my sadness
because, he seems to be able
to climb any barbed wire fence,
negotiate the most hormonal minefield
see inside my ***** laundry basket
and kiss the hurts I feel

So I'm sitting here wallowing
in just another day
and I hear music from inside
I put my book down and sway

99 Luft Balloons
(in German, not English)
He hates that song with a passion
but he knows I love it.

Lucky Number...
Kate Bush
Fischer Z

Then my most favourite song!

See chameleon
Lying there in the sun
All things to everyone


Run run away

and my heart bursts apart!

It's not just another day
he's trying to make it special
with things to make me smile
bringing music into my life

no, it's not just another day,
it's my birthday
Raising my glass
to Iron Maiden
and Flogging Molly
Metallica and
and Jethro Tull
(the band, not the man)
I'm singing like no ones
listening
I'm dancing like no ones
looking
and I don't care!

It's my birthday
all are welcome
to feel my pleasure
and share!

Jan 28th 2014
Jan 2014 · 865
10 Miles to Shore
Helen Jan 2014
Swim **** it, Swim
So easy just to float
Come on, don't give in
Emotions clog my throat
It was easier yesterday
when standing  upon the cliff
Tears trembled upon eyelashes to say
Promote tomorrow not as when, but if*
as the waves toss a weary soul
swimming could just be a demise
splitting limbs to rearrange as whole
shedding a simple disguise
This body is not lost at Sea,
it just completed its journey
Jan 2014 · 605
gently as the tears fall
Helen Jan 2014
many hearts are broken
as the song softly plays
inside each decimated soul
is a small part that prays

Take away the heartache
that tears this heart apart
leaving just a small piece
in which it may restart


Restart what?

Another life full of anguish
as Love sits behind the wheel
of an overgrown carriage
Careening across another barren field?

Just don't let me feel

Take the keys from numb hands
a back seat is the preference
for those that have lost
all sense, all will, all fight
any thought of difference
laying facing up on cracked leather
from the front seat comes snide

Are you enjoying the ride?

Out the window is blackness
a blur of trees, a sign,
another bridge crossed
another state line

Never were you mine

Weeping for the distance spent
to forget, yet total remembrance
negated the dry eyes that spell

my demise

Sitting on the side of the road
taking over the wheel
White knuckled from the years
it's not just how I feel

It's how things feel

to me

the tears fall

*gently
Jan 2014 · 556
Just Being Me
Helen Jan 2014
I am*
the Turtle
that pulls its head in
just for somewhere to rest

the Ostrich
with head in the sand
at the first sign
of protest

the Sloth
slovenly sitting
unbiasedly
in whatever tree
that holds me

A dolphin, a whale
a rhinoceroses
without fail
disappearing
from those who hunt me

Extinction is a four letter word
but it's inevitable, you see?

Because I'm all them, but not
I occupy the same Universe but
I forgot, there are creatures
less fortunate than me

Often  like them, I'm hunted
for the colour of my skin,
for my difference of opinion
admired to the point of deadliness
But existence is my only sin
It's difficult to be me
Where do I begin?
note to self ~ when restless, drink a glass of warm milk instead of Wine and FFS, turn OFF the Internet or else ^^^^ happens!
Good night, sweet dreams, and be safe in your skin :)
Helen Jan 2014
Autumn sips from Winters cup
Swallowing deeply of the breeze
Last leaf trembling has had enough
Releasing itself from yonder trees

Expelled upon the bleaching earth
It's colour is an obscene attractant
To note that which will die at birth
Bleeds into pale as its exactment

It screams 'oh colour me red/gold from death
to succour barren earth in the hours I dream
return my memories before I was colourless
until once again, my true colours  are seen

Adventuress my life comes,  with a price
Courageously I recolour a score more than thrice
Helen Jan 2014
It's not the fact that
everytime I open Hello Poetry
I have to open a new tab
on my computer screen
to a dictionary
No Sirree

It's not the fact that
I come back to read them
Six, Seven, infinity times
and always wonder
Could that be me?
They are sooo easy
(of course it's me)

It's not the fact that
He makes me think thoughts
that should have been sleeping
throughout my whole human phase
bringing up ideas that are better left
when we are prepared to retire
to the stars, I think he's part Mage

It's not his witticism, completely admired
It's not his heroism, completely tried
It's not his ability to not be able to deflect
It's his ability to be able to unashamedly connect

But no one will ever hate you for that... if there is anyone here who can't understand the same, don't hate the player, hate the game
#5 for   http://hellopoetry.com/poem/poetry-exercise-test-passing-grade-80/

I understand this is not a private message but I'm not ashamed to say I love your poetry.... You make me 'Get It' so thank you (publicly) for being you and I like my pizza with everything :) Pretty much what you've already give me.... Mmm delicious!
Helen Jan 2014
I watched a video once
about a song competition
Where artists were invited
to send their masterpieces in
The winner to be recorded
for eternal prosperity
because even if the world
Hated it, it would still be out there

Obviously in this technical age
many online videos arrived
what they didn't expect was the envelope
that cost less then a dollar to mail
it held their interest without fail

Fred was 94 years old
and he'd written a song
for his wife, his sweet Lorraine
neatly hand written and mailed
he had nothing he wanted to gain
Just to tell these people
of his sweet Lorraine

75 years they shared a love
that would most of us shame
the year of the the competition
He lost his sweet Lorraine
and even though he couldn't compare
to the incredible musical talent out there
The music studio visited Fred
and said
We also love your sweet Lorraine
and we want her to live, for you, again


And they wrote the music to Fred's words
and sat with him as he listened
as his old heavy eyes glistened
he just nodded and said
Yep

What makes me cry
is this emotion called Love
While joyous moments are undeniable
the lows must be spoken of
I'm more afraid than ever
of the deep abiding Love
I share with other half of my soul
the one who truly knows me
the only one that will really care
Then when I go before him
his heart will shatter
but Love will still beat
with nobody left to share it with
and only memories in retreat

So yeah, Love makes me sad, makes me cry and I'll always be afraid of it, even as I own it
A Letter from Fred
http://youtu.be/KDi4hBWsvkY

#3 for   http://hellopoetry.com/poem/poetry-exercise-test-passing-grade-80/
Helen Jan 2014
At the end of seven minutes
What will remain?
Hopefully not
an empty page
I'll test these glorious minutes
as if the end if my soul
is nigh
and try
To live to the fullest
I leave with a dry eye
an burbling well
of unused thoughts
a special little piece
of me
That I never thought
I could wrap with any sort
of decorum
Leaving it under the seat
of a well trafficked forum
Just a little surprise
to light someone's eyes
Just a tiny thought
plucked from so many
*Desire the world
claim your own little part
insider your heart
and never let any
deny your pleasure
For what we all treasure
is something that lives
inside us that is our very own
Our own little piece of the world
Where we can be some one
Helen Jan 2014
Steel bites, nips with pain
Ruby tears spill, painting eyes
silver, like cold rain
Jan 2014 · 828
14 thousand 149
Helen Jan 2014
10W
did you feel them?
those words that are mine?

Haiku
did they kiss your lips?
or simply drift behind eyes
that missed fingertips

Acrostic
Ten thousand emotions
Held in my heart
And yet, they depart
Never to just sit all alone
Kindness will repay

Yawning is the cavity
Of  split open feelings
Under fragile skin
*Please stay..,

Freestyle
Nobody knows where they are going, they just pretend as they look forward that they have a destination in mind, only to find, they've come full circle, back to where they began and then, they just start again
They cry for what's lost on the path, it fell out of their pocket, somewhere along the way but, the wonder of the Circle is,  it has no end, they can pick it up again, someday....
one of my most treasured pieces of Poetry I have written has just reached 14149 reads. http://hellopoetry.com/poem/i-am-your-tomorrow/
I wrote this at a time of great sorrow. When my most important part of me contemplated leaving me, eternally, after receiving a tremendous physical and mental blow to his life but, I stood strong and still stand by every word I wrote, for him, for me...  Thank you for reading ,)
Jan 2014 · 687
Please don't feed the troll
Helen Jan 2014
it's not worth
dropping angst
over the edge
of the ravine
just so the troll
can feed
they hide under bushes
and tickle snakes bellies
for a reason
because once
they were
The Captain
of their own ship
but couldn't steer past
the rocks of their own
****
now laying deep
as rusty bones
of their own ignorance
of the lighthouse
The just want to haunt
another house
Like anything starved
it will just whither
and die
Feeding the troll
gives it good eating
Hold onto your
success, so fleeting
just cross the bridge
and let it be buried
beneath its own lies
Jan 2014 · 679
apologies
Helen Jan 2014
they come easier
when the rain
washes away
tears, all becomes
so much clearer
when answers
become questions
and time becomes
finite
when hurt becomes
just a fickle memory
just a trickle of shivers
that run down
a spine
distance remembers
that unjust thoughts
are a simple art
that carry their own
magic
we danced
on razors blades
in the end
forgetting
the softness
of the feathers
where we bedded
at the start
but what is
tragic?
is that I never
apologised
Not for my
words,or
my actions
or,
for why I thought
you would
care?
I want to apologise
that I occupied
the same space
as you
and you never
really knew
I was there

*i am so sorry
just making peace... it needed to be said, can't do it when I'm dead *shrug*
Jan 2014 · 600
practice for perfect
Helen Jan 2014
marking time
watching beauty
fade
look at the back
of the hands
mapping journeys
look at feet
walking softly
following a path
unmade
look at the words
falling
from unmoving
lips
Silence is a clock
stopped precisely
at a time
when it was
decided
the Earth moved
under flowing
fingertips

Practice...
         become
                 Perfect!

when day
becomes night
followed by day

*it fits
Helen Jan 2014
Even if I never
write another piece
of my garbage that I call
Poetry
I'm still a reader of such
and stagnant pieces
are just a *******
for contemptuous lust
and soul *******
forms part of the Universe
as such
I absolutely refuse
to read something
Untitled

It ***** me completely
that you can sit down
and completely unload
Emotions uncontainable
Not just on a page
Ink veins open and dripping
but by making your fingers move
making your brain communicate
with extremities can be
exhausting
and still you lay bare
-
all your nakedness
and angst
and your happiness
wrapped inside sadness

and refuse it a name?

What?

You think after you've aired
all your ***** laundry,
hung your intestines
out to dry, as you stitch together
the cavity that once held your heart
It's okay to simply expel your breath
take a look at what you wrote
and call it Art?
Even though its nameless?

I call it irresponsible
to that which you gave birth
and left it rotting in the ether
with no title to ground it to earth
I am not dead, just resting, but I never stop reading, I don't deny food to my soul however, Untitled poetry is a pet peeve mine... Come on people, how much more effort is it to come with a title even after its done?
Helen Dec 2013
sigh

I wish I wasn't writing this
I had something else to say, but
Yesterday turned into Tomorrow
and I'm reluctant to come and play

I don't usually explain my Poetry
but I no longer have 'the gift'
No longer have I the emotions
Eternal despair has caused a rift

so I'll whisper my meanings to you
all my words mean nothing to me
just what I gathered from the universe
I'm an Empath, you see

I can no longer hold
all your feelings
in my heart
I can no longer
cry for you
laugh with you
or sit silently
as you fill me
with emotions
I can't cope with
I never wanted this
from the start

but I never denied you

So this is *Goodbye

let go of my hand
unwrap your arms
from beneath my soul

Don't cry for me
or laugh at me
or catch your breath
or try to see
Where I'm going,
you can't follow me

My journey is ended

The price....

                    *Untold
hard to capture but easy to release.

"We all start, facing East, waiting for the Sun to touch our hearts, but eventually, some turn, facing West, waiting for nightfall, for the darkness to come, to take away the demons that have laid their heads to our breast, so we can rest." ~ Helen Doogan 28/12/2013
Helen Dec 2013
Before you start reading this I feel I must tell you, this is long and very possibly, very very boring but, so very important to me and hopefully to my dedicated*


I sat back upon cracked heels
that represented, simply,
just a good place to sit
Somewhere close to the ground
where I could trail fingertips
in the dirt, drawing pictures
of deserted castles
and skeleton butterflies
with wings of fractutured glass
and fairies
with silken headdresses
of thorns
and Unicorns,
missing their horns
and other creatures
of similar ilk

Staring at the fence,
Fifty million years high
I sigh
because beyond the fence
in a babble of voices
they whisper of
Contentment
The underlying sentiment
of precocious antic dotes
spilling precious needs upon
any slight breeze
drifting like glowing dust motes
fills me with a resentment
that is voraciously ferocious
because they
spoke to each other
while all I had was dirt
beneath my fingernails
and partially deformed nightmares
that blew away
on the slightest exhale

As I cleaned the slate
with a flick of my wrist
Rain turned to mist
my dust board of memories
became a mud pile
I couldn't smile
I could hardly even frown
I was still as close as I could ever be
to the ground
I was now no longer kneeling
I was laying with one cheek
against my impression of Calliope,
who is carvorting silently
with rucked up skirts and lute in hand
but not longer in motion
just a muddied mess of dirt and tears
capturing all my naked fears
erased beneath a spirit
that hides in the dirt
on the other side of the fence

This is where he found me
All ragged and breathing stale air
All gasping for solace
trying to wrap myself in warmth
of the voices
from the other side of the fence
It was not blanket sized
more just a crocheted square
enough to cover my heart
which needed the warmth
I swear, I went cold so often
that the dirt that remained
under my fingernails
was the only thing
that kept my fingers warm

He crouched beside me
and said softly
What have we here?
Oh baby bird with broken wing
but whose song I did hear sing
Little Callista, mute from your screams
Broken from your nightmares
that started as dreams...
I saw you through the fence


As I stared into tapestry eyes
and followed the outstretched hand
that didn't try to touch me
sensing my fragility
He pointed to a pinprick space
devoid of concrete and mortar
Just inches from my dirtied face
in the Fifty million year high fence
he graced me with a weary look
I heard you ask once
while chasing skeleton butterflies
if they came from over fence...
Would you like a look?


He stood up over ten feet tall,
simply clasped his hand together
With eyebrow raised
and a twitch to lips
he invited me to stand
with a nod of his head
and a flick of eyes to the fence
I simply unwove all my dreams
and delicious unfantasies
stood, put a hand on his shoulder
a ***** foot in his palms
and he hoisted me

What I saw over the fence was
Magical, Mystical
a complete break to my reality

A simple garden of verdant green
the sublime shade of an unspoken tree
a single little girl
with ten thousand voices
spilling from her lips
from her I caught
just a small crocheted square
on the other side
but it still made no sense
what I saw,
hanging from the fence
until I looked back down
into taperstry eyes
that smiled
with a knowledge of Soloman
having pulled apart
and put back together
a struggling humanity
He simply grinned at me
and trumpeted
She is you, she writes Poetry
You are her and I, We, believe
in both of you.
As you can clearly see
there is nothing beyond the fence
that you cannot be


And he simply bent his knees
and lifted his hands
to the Sun
and toppled me over the fence
so I could, again
become one
I don't know if I said anything as I sailed over the fence to land the right way down but, thanks for the leg up :)
Helen Dec 2013
Entrancing as the view is
It's like watching silent movies
Where overly painted faces
Gesticulate with solemn graces
Open to interpretation
Until the words appear
Surrounded by fanciful borders
Innocuously proclaiming
The weather is fine today, m'dear
And you laugh anyway
Because what they just said
Is not how it sounded in your head
Especially because how they are dressed
Lord forgive my misconstruing
a torrid expression so ambiguous
It eclipsed my ubiquitousness
I'm just trying to understand
From the arms that are flying
and the cheeks that are burning
Without the words inferring
If it will be a fine day today
or
If the world has finally stopped turning

I need the words to come first
Before the screen scene
Or else I'll laugh, when I should cry
To be misunderstood feels obscene
My interpretative skills seriously ****!
Dec 2013 · 968
Colour, Blind
Helen Dec 2013
I actually like
Black and White
Tangerine dreams
are so Yesterday

White pages, Black dreams
silent words scream

Describe the word Blue
without it coming to play...

It's something born,
denied its first breath
It's skin from cold water
It's the first blush of Death.
It's the cloudless sky
that mocks the tears
in my heart.
It's the only colour
in my Rainbow
when the tears depart.
It's the colour of ice
that floats in my drink
which resides at my elbow
drowning my ability to think.
It's the colour of flame
that blazed beyond heat.
It's the reason I'm blind.
It's the colour of my feet
that walked through the snow
following your glow
to lose the path
with no retreat.
It's the colour of my mind


I repeat

I like Black and White
the colours of Nothing
Ink blots on paper,
a pinch of Blue,
and the murky Grey
becomes something
I once knew.
Dec 2013 · 2.1k
Master of Largesse
Helen Dec 2013
lɑːˈ(d)ʒɛs/ noun

magnanimity,*
generosity,
liberality,
munificence,
bountifulness,
beneficence,
altruism,
charity,
kindness,
lavishness,
unselfishness


pretium est princeps unde redderent, quia munera(1)

τραγική, η τιμή
Σας έκανε να πληρώσετε
για αυτό
tragikí̱ , i̱ timí̱
Sas ékane na pli̱ró̱sete
gia af̱tó(2)

nu ligga död
botten av gropen(3)

nocht, ach le haghaidh an salachar
Chaith mé a chuirtear air(4)

Take your largesse and squeeze it where the sun never sees(5)

We all laid down
just as well
The master cut
the puppet strings
and we all
                        just
                                ­        *fell....
(1) Latin ~ the price is high, to pay for a gift
(2) Greek ~ grievous price We did pay this
(3) Swedish ~ now lying dead bottom of the pit
(4) Irsh ~ naked, but for the dirt I spent upon it
(5) No translation required
Dec 2013 · 917
death of me, literaturely
Helen Dec 2013
is that even a word?
literaturely?
who cares really?
It is now, to me

I have oft complained
the seductive heat
of tar and ink
that has literaturely
clogged my veins
and in turn
gummed my brain
often touting screams
that proclaim
NOT SANE
is here to remain
but I was wrong?

When last I cut my wrists
the pain ran Red
and inside my head
I literaturely turned Blue
Who knew?
that all things unsaid
are put to bed
on a razors edge
cutting my soul in half
that never once
turned on you

I literaturely turned gray

I paled beneath dying embers
of forgotten burning fires
dulling as ash coated remnants
of long ago desires

I now step back
from the fray
I've had my weak
my day
and upon the hour
where the clock strikes
the 780th minute
13 leaves a sour
taste in my mouth

turning all good things South
swimming in blackness
in my new ruby red
bathing suit
that literaturely
turned white
I literaturely died
tonight

Now a mute
blood red in vane
I sit and stare
at the bones
of my soul
that remain
A ghastly caricature
of a misspent life
that can't negotiate
the road at the bend

I literaturely can
no longer
comprehend
Helen Nov 2013
all the little children play
in the streets
their grubby little faces
smile with cherubic grace
all the while
little worker ants
dance double time
along invisible threads
and get confused
when a finger spreads
North to East
when they should be
travelling South
How come, little baby
you need something
in your mouth?
Guessing rhymes
is a favourite pastime
to a literary Genius
two stepping
to a pop beat
that should be waltzed
but the grubby children
only see the rain
running fast
down the gutter
Their tiny ships
made from discarded
plastic
are ocean liners
and their inarticulate
shouts
whisper into the ether
dying a harsh death
upon the frost
Scattered bits of flotsam
are piled up high
upon the curb of
no longer relevant
Wastage to the scavengers
but not asked
of the grubby faces
if they grew out of it
Nov 2013 · 791
An Old Photograph
Helen Nov 2013
It’s nineteen years old now
but as clear as the day it was captured
thanks to the wonder of modern day technology
it is frozen, as a memory on my computer screen
and it reminds me, in a blaze, of our total devotion
as it displays, to this day, our rapture

Your sitting there, a handsome devil
a beguiling smile upon your face
looking up at me like I was the one
that marked your world and you didn’t
ever want to be anywhere other than in that one place

I’m smiling down at you, in my eyes you can
see just the one single thing that was true
There was nowhere else I wanted to be, that day
but to be smiling down at you

Between us both, with each of our arms wrapped around
a small child that was happy to be, just part of us
As we gaze into each others eyes
he was happy to sit and smile, looking away
but knowing he was surrounded by trust

It is our wedding photograph that I stare at
on my computer screen and I’m still in awe
so much I can not look away
I look at us there, from a lifetime ago
and I thank the forces that be that we
still look at each other that way today
Happy Anniversary my Love! We've been together for over half our lifetime... here is to the next half.... Tá grá agam duit
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